


Heroic Origins

by AllysaurusRAWR



Series: It Isn't Enough [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Harrowing, Kinloch Hold, Mages (Dragon Age), Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:09:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllysaurusRAWR/pseuds/AllysaurusRAWR
Summary: The Hero of Ferelden wasn't actually from Ferelden. Marguerite Amell was born in Kirkwall to the unfortunate Revka Amell. She was taken to Kinloch Hold at six and grew up to be a decent Primal Mage. All the studying she did (or didn't) never prepared Marguerite for what lay ahead.This is the beginning of my series about Marguerite Amell, the Hero of Ferelden. Focusing on the events leading up to her becoming a Grey Warden.**Currently editing the work but not adding new chapters**





	1. The Meeting

The Hero of Ferelden wasn't actually from Ferelden. Marguerite Amell was born in Kirkwall to the unfortunate Revka Amell. The family had been suffering hardships since 9:05 Dragon when Leandra Amell ran off with Malcolm Hawke. The appearance of mage blood in the family did nothing to help their crumbling status. Marguerite almost burned down her room after a particularly vivid nightmare and, without ceremony, she was taken away by Templars to the circle tower at Kinloch Hold when she was barely six. The last memory she has of her family is Revka sobbing in the streets and begging Andraste to spare her child.

“It's better for you to be here, we can help you learn how to control your magic.” First Enchanter Irving would remind her over and over again. True she almost reduced the library to cinders, but Marguerite proved to be a capable student. But all that capability does not equal confidence, which she sorely lacked. Deep in the back of her mind was her overwhelming sense of being an 'other'. She cursed her magic for all the misfortune she had experienced. She wished for memories of her mother and in quiet moments would lament their separation. In her darkest times she thought of lazily napping by the hearth as she brushed her hair and sang lovely songs about lovely things. When her mind wandered to the life she lived so long ago her heart would break a little bit more. _Yes_ , she assured herself, _if I had only been born without magic_. She could still be in Kirkwall with her family.

For almost fourteen years these thoughts stewed in her mind until Marguerite cursed her existence regularly. This inner conflict led to an innate need to please and prove herself different from _other mages_. She believed if she proved to be the most disciplined mage in the circle she might one day be able to improve her status. Long ago she banished dreams of running away and becoming an apostate. People already didn't trust mages and she had no clue how the world worked outside the damp stone walls of her prison. If she proved to be a “good mage” maybe First Enchanter Irving would help her find a way back to Kirkwall, or the Free Marches at the very least.

Most apprentices spent their free time in the various library studying their craft. Marguerite did the bare minimum required of her outside the classroom. Tucked away in some nook or another she devoured stories about handsome Chevaliers and passionate courtships. Her favorite stories involved true love overcoming all obstacles. Tomes about the practicalities of creation magic, or a thesis on various healing poultices, didn't have lovers stowing away at night for secret rendezvous. Today she was nested in her pale blue skirts, tucked away in a faraway corner. The drifting autumn sunlight tried its hardest to lull her to sleep but the book in her hand was too good.

“Haven't you already read that one?” Jowan gestured to the battered copy of La Belle et La Bȇte in her small hands.

“It's one of my favorites. Orlesians know how to tell an excellent story.” She closed the worn rose cover with an annoyed huff and turned toward her fellow apprentice. “What do you want Jowan?”

“Senior Enchanter Leorah needed you for inventory. Looks like more herbs and alchemy stuff.” She huffed again and slung her bag across her body, opening her book back to the same spot and starting off to the storeroom. Years of the same surroundings had its perks, she could walk these hallways without having to look up. This explains her confusion when she walked into something en route to her destination. The thing was large and heavy, stopping her instantly in her tracks. 

“Strange, I don't remember there being a pillar here.” She wondered aloud. Her initial assessment was proven wrong when she saw a Templar standing in front of her. Somehow she didn't hear the rustle of armor or see his surprised expression upon their collision. Templars made her nervous, this one even more so. His eyes were like amber, making her body feel warm and shiver at the same time. His golden curls were begging for her run her fingers through them and pull his face closer. Marguerite absolutely knew that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She snapped back to reality, keenly aware of the silence growing between them.

“I – uh – sorry for bumping into you. Ser.” Quickly curtsying she shifted to move but the previously silent Templar cleared his throat.

“My apologies, I wasn't looking. Would you tell me where I can find First Enchanter Irving?” Marguerite blinked at him dumbly for a moment before being able to grasp the concept of language again.

“Uhm, yes.” He continued to stare, encouraging her to continue. “Down the hall to the staircase and after that follow the right hallway.” Hoping the directions were sufficient she extricated herself from the increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Why did he make her feel like that? She mulled over the question as she continued toward the storeroom.

 

* * *

 

 

When all the herbs and other requisitions were accounted for, Marguerite excused herself to continue reading her her favorite part of the library. She could feel her breath quicken as the plot reached its climax. The Beast was about to declare his love for Belle when her own beast appeared holding a steaming mug with a stupid grin.

“A new Templar arrived today.” Jowan offered the mug of what turned out to be rose tea as an apology for his intrusion. She rolled her eyes and stared into the earthenware mug, contemplating what to say next. Jowan was one of her closest friends in the tower but was a terrible gossip. His eagerness to share opinions over tea made her nervous to disclose too much.

“I know, already ran into him. Quite literally.” She took a loud sip for emphasis and burned her lips in the process. His eyes widened at the revelation, he too was uncomfortable around Templars and had a million questions to ask.

“Really! What was he like? Some of the other apprentices are saying he's very handsome.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the last statement. Marguerite almost choked on the hot liquid at the motion. Taking a moment to regain herself she again attempted to seem aloof and unbothered.

“I suppose he is.” She didn't wan to tell Jowan about how fast her heart was beating during their encounter or the way his eyes burned into hers. Her imitation of being calm and collected irritated Jowan and he tried another tactic to provoke a reaction.

“I'm sure Ryn will try to use her feminine wiles on him.” He saw her light gray eyes become stormy at the mention of her perceived rival. His statement seemed to hit a nerve as she spat back.

“Ryn tries to seduce any young man unfortunate enough to live in Kinloch Hold.” Her stare told him he would be getting no more entertainment from her for the time being.

“Dammit Marguerite you're no fun to talk to today!” With an exasperated flick of his wrist Jowan stormed off. She kept her eyes trained to the mug and contemplated what Jowan had said. When she thought of her first meeting with the new Templar her cheeks burned. He was very handsome, more handsome than the current heartthrob Sebastian. She tried to recount every detail as her tea grew cold.

_Dammit_ she cursed to herself. Focusing a small flame in her hand she attempted to warm the tea back up. She heard a small chuckle and narrowed her eyes. She was in no mood for Jowan to start teasing her again. This wing of the library was usually abandoned, with the exception of an odd Templar on patrol. A Templar like the one currently in the far corner, amused amber eyes starting back at her. She immediately cut the flame off and scurried from the premises. Maker! How long had he been watching?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time posting fic in a long time so please be gentle.


	2. Dream Seed

“ _Shit_ ” Marguerite hissed into her pillow. How could she have forgotten her book, the confession was her favorite part! There was no way she could go back, what if _he_ was there. His stifled laughter made her heart do a little dance and she was not prepared for another repeat performance. She turned her face and pushed her strawberry blonde hair to the side. How long had he been watching? What was so amusing about her trying to heat her tea back up? Maybe he was one of those Templars with no real mage experience. How can he be a Templar if he's never seen something simple like her small fire spell? Poor guy, he would be in for a shock when he saw his first primal-magic practice. She peeled herself off the bed and started toward the dining hall. The setting autumn sun cast a warm glow through the corridor as she tried to decide what new book to read. Her nose was more or less acclimated to the smell of barley and turnip stew that hit her upon entering the room.

 

“Maybe I'll read some _Adventures of the Black Fox_.” She contemplated out loud, stabbing a spoon into the beige mush before her. The stew was edible but she wished for something a little less predictable. _If I wasn't born a mage, I could be home right now_. She shoveled another spoonful into her mouth and wished it would turn into pig oat stew instead. A familiar faded rose book slid across the table. Marguerite's eyes lit up as she started to thank whoever had found her beloved piece of work. 

 

“You forgot this in the library earlier.” It was _him._ She could tell he wasn't used to addressing her kind yet and found it endearing. Most of the time they just grunt and call her mage with no real emotion at all.

 

“Thank you Ser. Apologies if I caused any inconvenience.” She was grateful she didn't have to leave the story unfinished. He rubbed the back of his neck and broke eye contact between them for a moment. Had she addressed him wrong? It was so hard to tell the ranks apart by appearance only.

 

“Not at all. I can tell this is a well loved volume. You also left a satchel with scrolls. I assume they contain important information.” His kindness astonished her, normally Templars would just leave her items where they were. She was too embarrassed to tell him the scrolls were just copies of notes and her own poor attempts at emulating her favorite authors.

 

“Thank you again Ser for being so kind. I would be very grateful if you returned my satchel.” She silently thanked the maker that his curiosity wasn't piqued. If he had read her writing he would probably have burnt all of it. Happy to leave her stew behind she quickly stood up, remembering to grab her book before following him out to the corridor.

 

“They must be very important for you to abandon your meal.”

 

“Oh, yes.” Her cheeks burned as the lie left her mouth.

 

“I – uh – took your effects to my quarters. For safe keeping only I assure you.” She let out a giggle with his last minute disclaimer. The light flush across his cheeks and nose made him even more handsome. “I will meet you in the library shortly. Mages aren't normally allowed in Templar quarters, you understand.” A quick pang in her chest reminded Marguerite exactly who she was, a mage. Quickly pushing the unpleasant thought away she looked back at him and playfully asked.

 

“The library is a large place Ser. Where shall I wait?”

 

“How about where you ran away from me?” She scoffed and rolled her eyes in her signature attempt at seeming unbothered.

 

“I realized I was late for my lessons. That's why I left with such … urgency.” Her feet became very interesting as she contemplated which spells would be needed in order to conjure a hole beneath her feet. The smile that played across his face made her wish even harder for the earth to swallow her whole. As he closed the space between them she knew her face must have been scarlet red.

 

“I will be back momentarily.” She could smell him now, leather and incense from the small chapel tickled her nose. “And my name is Cullen.” he whispered into her ear.

 

She said yet another prayer of thanks for the Maker keeping her upright during the end of their conversation. When his warm breath touched her ear, she used all self control she had left not to let out the small moan that formed in the back of her throat. Cullen smiled and turned on his heels, leaving Marguerite standing there with her mouth agape. Mouth eventually closing and with feeling coming back to her legs she headed to her favorite window. Most of her surroundings had grown far past familiar for her but never this particular view of the lake. The water would refract all the shades in the sky above no matter the time. Currently it was a mosaic of dark purples, pinks and blues as the sun set on yet another day in Kinloch Hold. Straining her ears to check in both directions for Cullen, she grabbed the book and headed to the small window ledge. The fight between Gerard and Prince Adam was one of her favorite parts. She was so focused on the egotistical Gerard being vanquished Marguerite didn't notice that Cullen had come back.

 

“Is it getting good?” She let out a small squeak of surprise and excitement as Cullen interrupted her reading. Quickly marking her spot and closing the book she gained her composure.

 

“It is indeed.” Smoothing down her skirts she searched for more conversation. “Have you ever read this story?” He studied her fragile fingers splayed across the cover and shook his head.

 

“Training to become a Templar requires time and discipline. Though, if you need a chant I can be of assistance.” His lame attempt at humor made her giggle once again. Marguerite didn't have a particular affinity for the Canticles of Light but contemplated hearing his rough voice reading to her for hours. “Here are your items. I promise I didn't take anything.” Her hands lingered over his gloved ones as he gently handed the worn leather sack back to her.

 

“I trust you Cullen.” She took a cursory glance and confirmed that nothing was missing. “Thank you again for guarding my scrolls. Not every Templar would do that for a mage.” She gathered her satchel and slung it across her body in a familiar motion. It was now her turn to close the space between them. Her cheek hovered over his as she spoke barely above a whisper.

 

“My name is Marguerite.” She took one more whiff of his scent before turning on her heel and walking back to the apprentice quarters. Her own boldness had surprised her and she tried to calm the heart that was threatening to beat out of her chest at any moment. Walking back she was glad that the torchlight had dimmed, it meant not many people would be around and hid the bright shade of her face.

 

Laying in bed back in her quarters she contemplated all that had happened. His name is Cullen, the name rolled off her tongue and made her stomach feel warm. Their meetings were like something out of her stories. Maybe happiness is something people experience in real life. Wouldn't it be wonderful if they fell in love? A Mage and a Templar, proving that love can overcome all odds. It was all very romantic and Marguerite fell asleep with a smile on her face for the first time in years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Primal Magic - the Primal School is the second of the Schools of Energy, balanced by Spirit, and concerns the most visible and tangible forces of nature itself. (from Dragon Age Wiki)


	3. Secret Garden

As the seasons passed Marguerite and Cullen grew closer and closer. His patrol schedule would conveniently coincide with her free time and they would spend a few minutes conversing without anyone the wiser. Those minutes were the highlight of her day. Marguerite would agonize over what to talk to him about, trying to tease information out of him subtly. Since their first moment alone in the library she had known she was wildly in love with him but wasn't prepared to share that knowledge with Cullen.

“I can't understand why the strong and brave Templar is scared of a love story.” She teased one warm spring day. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and stared out to the the lake, surveying the teal and blue kaleidoscope. Cullen chose his words wisely.

“It's not exactly the sort of thing Templars spend their free time reading.”

“Yeah, I'm sure your stories are more about martyrdom and spreading the love of Andraste.” Marguerite always found the Chantry tales boring and lacking in drama. Everyone seemed to die or end up unhappy in the tales she read. They also didn't ever seem to be in favor of mages. Hell, even Andraste disowned her daughter for falling in love with one. She teased as he shook his head and continued to stare out the window. The soft spring daylight gave his face an ethereal glow. No man she had ever met had such a strong pull on her heart. As she studied his face she wished he could return her affections.

“You're not wrong. I don't know the first thing about romance.” He anxiously laughed.

“I think you would be an excellent companion.” She mumbled under her breath, trying to commit the sight before her to memory. He turned to her with a strange look in his eyes, was it fondness?

“I sincerely doubt I'm like one of the noble knights in your stories Marguerite.” For five months she had been practicing extreme self control when it came to Cullen. Her body screamed to touch his and she regularly contemplated what it would feel like if they ever kissed. When he said her name she resisted the urge to stand up and finally take what she wanted. Instead she let out a tired sigh and rolled her eyes.

“You're wrong Cullen but I don't have the effort to prove you wrong.” Joining his gaze she tried to pass the lie off as truth. He finally turned back to her with a smile on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“Oh really? Would you maybe find enough effort to meet me this evening?” His question caught her off guard and she almost fell out of her chair. What was he asking her? Cullen prepared to resume his patrol as Marguerite regained her footing.

“Where?” Was all she could manage in the present moment. Blood filled her ears as visions of knights in shining armor filled her mind. The handsome Templar was ready to initiate a courtship and she could barely keep her wits about her.

“I don't suppose you could meet me in the garden after the midnight shift change?” She shook her head in agreement so hard Marguerite thought her head would fall off. The garden was one of her favorite places.

“Of course Cullen!” A wide smile took up her face. He flashed her another warm smile and walked away. Marguerite immediately shoved her supplies into her satchel and raced back to the apprentices quarters.

 

* * *

 

“Why are you getting so dressed up for bed?” Ryn asked mockingly, index finger running over the embroidered daisies on Marguerite's nightgown. “Meeting one of your dream boyfriends tonight?” The small group of girls behind her let out a malicious giggle. Marguerite pushed Ryn's hand away and rolled her eyes in the usual fashion.

“I'm named after daisies.” She lamely replied and turned around, resisting the urge to look back and give her opponent opportunity for more jabs. Though she had worked for months at embroidering the gown it was uneven and sloppy in certain spots. Did she really look ridiculous? With a frustrated growl she opened _In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar_. Her Harrowing was quickly approaching and she needed to study harder than ever before. Brother Genitivi seemed to know what he was talking about, though she admitted it was rather dry reading.

After a few hours of torturing her eyes with scholarly reading her candle had died and everyone appeared to be asleep in the dormitory. Marguerite silently slipped out and moved to her secret rendezvous with Cullen. Her heart was beating fast and loud in her ears as she straightened out her nightgown, once again tracing the embroidered daisies. Out of the darkness he appeared, a wide smile across his face.

“You look lovely.” Looking down at her feet a goofy grin spread across her lips. She felt his gloved hand tuck a stray hair behind her ear, it burned with his touch. "I'm glad you came tonight.” Hearing this made her relax and look up at him. The pools of amber always set her heart on fire and she knew instantly she would do anything for him as their eyes locked. “

“Me too, shall we sit down?” Marguerite signaled to the small latticework bench flanked with Crystal Grace. He nodded and followed, the size of the bench meant she was practically sitting in his lap. This fact did not seem to bother either of them and Cullen naturally wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his other hand on her knee. They had never really cuddled before but that was not because they hadn't tried. Cullen had to continue his responsibilities and their library spot was never guaranteed to be safe from prying eyes.

“This is nice.” Cullen broke the silence first. Fireflies set off little lights randomly illuminating the blooming flowers, forming an intoxicating perfume.

“It is indeed.” She sighed and moved to nuzzle in his neck, take in more of the leather and incense scent she loved. He shuffled and cleared his throat before she could get her fix.

“I know your Harrowing is happening in a few days time.” He winced as her face became stormy and she repositioned in his lap in an attempt to get space. In the great Orlesian tales of love and passion they never talked about Harrowings or unpleasant things. 

“It is.” Clearly she didn't want to continue the conversation but Cullen persisted.

“Are you worried?” Marguerite bit down on her lip as she thought of the answer and sighed. It was now her turn to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Of course I am. It's not something you can do again. If I don't succeed -” The crack in her voice finished the rest of the sentence. If she didn't succeed he would have to cut her down. They both let the silent truth hang between them for some time. For all the sweet moments they had shared, Marguerite was still a mage and Cullen was a Templar. Both of them had done a good job of ignoring reality but the upcoming Harrowing was hard to dismiss. Cullen reached into his pocket with one hand and grabbed her hand with his other. The feeling of his hand on hers was so calming, like an anchor for her in all the madness around them. Cullen put something in her open palm and closed it into a loose fist.

“I know you'll make it. This is for good luck.” Her fingers uncurled to reveal a small silver pendant. He had given her his flaming sword necklace, a token of affection. For the first time in her life she felt worth something and began to cry. The tears were hot and sweet as she grew overwhelmed with the realization. Marguerite meant something dear to Cullen, he had proved it with the pendant in her hand. “Sweet maker! I'm sorry Marguerite!” Cullen pulled her into a hug without thinking, wishing to comfort the crying mage. She pushed back and wiped her eyes, tears continuing to fall from her gray eyes.

“Thank you so much Cullen. I love you – it. I love it. The necklace.” There was no way he bought that lie and she needed to escape. Cullen's grip grew stronger on her waist as she tried to fly away from her embarrassment. His hand cupped her face and pulled it inches away from his. Their eyes locked as he issued his own confession.

“I love you too.” Cullen's lips crashed into hers.

Maybe someone could actually love a mage. Maybe Marguerite could be worthy of care and affection, despite being cursed with magic. Cullen loved her and that was all she needed in that moment to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: things are getting unpleasant in the next chapter.
> 
> About Andraste: She had two daughters, "Vivial, was more controversial: a strong-headed woman who defied her family by falling in love with a mage of Tevinter, Regulan. Vivial and Regulan went into self-imposed exile as the Exalted March began, and into hiding following Andraste's betrayal and murder." [Codex Source ](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Children_of_Andraste)


	4. Harrowing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HUGE TRIGGER WARNING**  
> There are some yucky non-consensual things that happen in this chapter but I believe it is necessary for future character development.

The oatmeal was like ash in her mouth the morning of her Harrowing. Marguerite stayed up most the night trying to study up on all the forms of demons and recognizing trickery in the fade. Mages had contact to the fade but what happened in the Harrowing was a whole different level. She had asked Cullen what taking Lyrium would be like but he told her reactions differed between Templars and mages. “It tastes terrible.” Was all he could offer in terms of advice. She reached for the chain under her robes and smiled. Cullen's pendant had remained on her neck from the night he gave it to her in the garden. She looked at him from across the dining hall and gave a little wave. Cullen scratched the back of his neck and smiled

“Big day ahead, you ready?” Jowan had been growing absent in her life lately but she was glad for the distraction this morning.

“I'm not sure there's really such a thing as being prepared for this. I've read so many scholarly books and scrolls I have to be. Be happy you haven't been given the opportunity yet.” Marguerite knew she was being slightly cruel, all Jowan wanted was to pass his Harrowing and become a full fledged mage. “I'm sorry Jowan. I know your time will come soon.” She lied and finished the rest of her breakfast.

“Well, once you pass your little test I have something to show you.” The mischievous glint in his eyes did nothing to calm her nerves. The friends said their goodbyes and she headed upstairs. Without looking she could feel Cullen behind her, she had spent a lot of time learning what his energy felt like. Underneath his breath she could hear him whispering prayers from the Chant of Light all the way to the Harrowing Chamber.

First Enchanter Irving stood across the room, flanked by Senior Enchanters and Templars on either side. Taking one last deep breath she walked to the center of the room. "Step forward Marguerite and take this chalice.” It was nothing extraordinary but the liquid inside it smelt vile. Reading about Lyrium and coming into contact with it were two very different things she discovered. “Go on, take a drink child. Your Harrowing shall commence.” Nose scrunched she took a quick gulp of the blue liquid. Cullen was right, it did taste terrible. The potion made her eyes feel heavy as she searched the room for him before consciousness slipped away from her.

 

* * *

 

 

Warm sunlight on her skin as a hand brushed wild hairs from her face. She never felt warm in her dreams about the fade, had Marguerite taken the potion? Light gray eyes opened to a familiar face and she smiled. 

“Had a lovely little nap dear?” Cullen smiled in his usual lopsided fashion as she began to awaken. His fingers were lazily running through her strawberry blonde hair as she looked around.

“I was just about to start my Harrowing.” Her eyes surveyed a wide open field littered with wild flowers and a small picnic. The empty bottle of wine by her side left one to assume she had taken a nap after a nice afternoon drink and snack. 

“Marguerite you passed your Harrowing years ago. What is in that wine Jowan gave us?” Cullen shook his head and gave her a wink. Marguerite knew she was a light weight when it came to drinking, no wonder she passed out. Stretching out in the sunlight felt amazing as did the calloused fingers on her scalp. 

“Where are we? Is this the fade?” She was certain her last memory was drinking the awful Lyrium potion in preparation for her Harrowing. Cullen furrowed his brow in the usual adorable way and gave a sour look.

“Marguerite you're making me nervous, we're home.” She followed his outstretched finger to a small cabin she hadn't noticed before. It looked so perfect nestled in the flower field and spring sun. Nobody knew how badly she wanted this life, not even Cullen. Her eyes tried to focus harder on the cabin but it grew more distorted and fuzzy with the effort. Cullen couldn't be in the fade with her. Cullen was in the Harrowing chamber with Irving and the Senior Enchanters. Something seemed to snap behind his eyes as an annoyed grimace replaced his crooked smile.

“Don't push yourself so hard little one. I have all the time in the world.” Cullen's voice suddenly became harsh and cold. His hands gripped her arms and forced her to look at him. The demon tried its best to mimic her love but it was slightly off. The color of his eyes wasn't quite right and his nose was a little longer than what was before her. Panicked she started wracking her brain for any spell that could help her defeat the demon in front of her. The sun no longer warmed her skin and the sky seemed to darken.

“Don't you want to spend every day like this with your precious Templar little Marguerite?” The Demon turned her around and pinned his chest into her back. One strong arm around her waist kept her from escaping.

“Wouldn't you love to be free?” The hot breath on the back of her neck was repulsive. Tears began falling down her face the demon continued to taunt her.

“I can give that to you.” A cold hand reached down her dress and cupped her breast. “Just give me this tight little body and I'll give you everything.” Its icy fingers began to trace her nipple and a small laugh escaped its lips. Marguerite tried to block off her mind and wished for the assault to be over.

“I know you're intact girl. Templars love little virgin mages like you.” The demon was taking immense pleasure in its torture of Marguerite. "Wouldn't it be so much better if I went in your place?" It moved its hand away from her chest and began tracing the skin of her upper thigh. In the moment of distraction she grabbed its arms and let out a small pulse of blue flame. With a cry from the monster Marguerite pushed against it and rose to her feet. Any attempt to look like Cullen had disappeared and the desire demon stood before her in its true form. The air grew electric as she pooled all of the magic within her body in an impressive display.

“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” With a flick of her wrist a slender staff appeared in her hand. The demon tried to show no emotion but she saw a small tinge of fear in its eye. “Foul and corrupt are they -” She pointed the staff at her opponent now, steadying herself for the next action. 

“Who have taken His gift And turned it against His children.” With feet firmly planted Marguerite set to harness the most powerful inferno she possibly could. Flames spread in a cone from the tip of her staff with a satisfying roar. A small accomplished smile flashed across her face as the fire consumed the demon. Its cries assured her there would be no abominations today and this demon would never touch her again. After there was nothing left but ashes she collapsed once again and began to cry.

Whoever was carrying her had heavy armor on, the cold plate felt wonderful against her feverish head. Slowly she lulled her head up to see who's arms she was in. Cullen looked down at her and smiled before the world went black again.

* * *

 

Marguerite finally woke up in her bed in the apprentice dormitory. The blankets had been pulled all the way to her neck and she laughed at the care Cullen had taken in tucking her in.

“Finally! Are you ready to see what I wanted to show you?” Jowan had his signature stupid grin on and wasn't ready to take no for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marguerite uses the Canticle of Transfigurations to fight against the demon.
> 
> Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.  
> Foul and corrupt are they  
> Who have taken His gift  
> And turned it against His children
> 
> Transfigurations 1:2


	5. Shattering Truth

“Marguerite, this is Lily, my girlfriend.” The Chantry initiate gave a timid smile and nod. Marguerite had to resist laughing at the thought of Jowan having a flesh and blood girlfriend.

“Good for you Jowan. Not sure how well this is going to work out but to each their own I suppose.” Jealousy wasn't the best word to describe her feelings but she certainly felt some ill will towards Lily. Her friend wasn't exactly a prize but this initiate was so very plain and unassuming. “Very nice to meet you, I should be going now.” Jowan grabbed her arm in a request to stay.

“I brought you here to do more than meet Lily.” The couple shared a secret look then he continued. “We're going to escape and I need your help.”

“Jowan you have completely lost your mind. Do you know what you just said? Nobody escapes the circle tower.” Even after spending over a decade reading fairy tales this was the most fanciful thing she had ever heard. Jowan's expression assured her that he was very serious. Lily came forward and joined the conversation.

“My dearest Jowan is set to become tranquil.” Lily clung to Jowan in a terrible impression of romantic gesture. The sight of how ridiculous they looked made her stormy eyes roll.

“And how exactly would you know that little Lily?” The condescension was dripping from every world. Her friend shot daggers at her but Marguerite was beyond entertaining their suicidal scheme.

“I overheard First Enchanter and Greagior talking, they're going to make him Tranquil in a few days time.” Tranquility was a fate worse than death in her eyes. Being cut off from the fade would be painful itself but she feared most the thought of losing herself. Whenever she had to interact with a Tranquil it always made her extremely upset. Being without emotion, were they even truly alive? They would reassure her, in their monotone way, that it was better for them to be Tranquil. There had never been a point in her life that she had wished to give up magic. Her wish was to have been never born with it. Losing herself now would serve no purpose in her penance. Lily's accusation had very real ramifications for her friend but being impulsive was never wise.

“I'll just go and ask Irving myself then.” Immediately leaving she avoided the pleas of her friend and his paramour.

 

* * *

 

 

The walk to the First Enchanter's office was far longer than she had ever remembered. Rounding yet another stupid corner, Marguerite saw Irving with a man she had never seen before. The most distinct thing about him was the Griffon armor he wore. Was this a Grey Warden? They had only been allowed into Ferelden for about 100 years now and only come out during Blights. Her eyes widened at the implication. Maker, was another Blight coming? Irving looked up from his discussion and saw Marguerite standing in the hallway.

“Ah, Marguerite.” The old mage smiled as she approached. His arm reached out and guided her to stand next to him. “Duncan this is Marguerite. She is our newest member, just passed her Harrowing yesterday.” He bragged with almost fatherly pride at her accomplishment. “Marguerite, this is Duncan. He is a Grey Warden.”

“Very pleased to meet you Ser.” She gave a small curtsy. “What is a Grey Warden doing here?” She blurted out her question without thinking. Both men laughed, making her feel relieved. Good, they weren't talking about anything secret. In her darkest mind she thought Duncan was here to help with the Rite of Tranquility.

“I'm recruiting mages for King Cailan's army.” His unremarkable reason continued to ease her mind. _Good, no Rite and no Blight._ “Would you be interested in joining Marguerite.” The laugh came out before she could stifle it.

“Thank you Ser Duncan for the offer.” Marguerite hoped she had recovered from the unexpected outburst and made a quick excuse. “Unfortunately I'm not very useful with Creation magic. I was actually coming to speak with First Enchanter Irving. You two continue your conversation, I'll be waiting in your office Ser.” Marguerite gave a quick nod and moved to leave. Irving stopped her and gave a warm smile.

“We can talk in my office after you escort Duncan to the guest chambers Marguerite.”

“Of course First Enchanter.” There was no real point in putting up a fight with him and the chambers were on her way. “Ser Duncan, please follow me.” When they were out of earshot Duncan attempted to start the conversation.

“Not great at Creation spells huh? Grey Wardens can always use other forms of magic. What is your focus Marguerite?” She should have never made a lame excuse to him, it had come to betray her.

“Well, I'm a student of the Primal School. I actually do know how to make simple healing poultices and salves.” Her cheeks grew warm. “Sorry for lying to you earlier. I just didn't know what to say.” Duncan turned to her and stopped. The expression on his face was one of sympathy and understanding.

“Not everyone jumps at the thought of joining the Grey Wardens Marguerite. You haven't cause any offense if that's what worried you.” The warm pat on her back rang true, as did his words. “Is this my room?” The guest quarters were modestly furnished but clean and comfortable. Someone had come ahead and set out a wash basin and lit a small fire. 

“Yes Ser.” Marguerite bid Duncan farewell and continued to her final destination. The Grey Warden had been a useful distraction but now she was back alone with her thoughts of poor Jowan's fate.

 

* * *

 

Irving had been looking over various papers when she quietly entered his office. The wooden furniture was old but well cared for and made the room feel inviting. There was the perpetual fire behind the large desk that also added to the warm atmosphere. Whenever Marguerite was younger, she spent a lot of time in this office. Her homesickness was extremely strong the first few years. Whenever the Senior Enchanters could no longer deal with her tantrums, Marguerite was sent to Irving. He paid no mind as she screamed and cried. When she had worn herself out they would finally talk. Irving would offer her chamomile tea with honey and ask what was wrong. She would complain of missing her mother and he would explain why they had to be separated. Though he was never able to fully relieve her longing for home, it was something.

“First Enchanter.” He looked up at her entrance and nodded to the chair in front of his desk. The fire burning behind him felt stifling to her for some reason. Marguerite hadn't noticed that she was lightly sweating in her robes.

“Thank you for helping me with Duncan. Planning on joining the Wardens now?” He teased her and placed the papers in a drawer to look at later. Marguerite's stony glare was the answer he had anticipated and drew a small playful tut. “What can I help you with Marguerite?”

“Are you going to make Jowan Tranquil?” Having known him for over a decade afforded Marguerite a degree of informality. If it was true she had no time to mice words and pleasantries. His expression told her he was taken by surprise.

“Who told you?” She scoffed and ignored his question.

“Like that matters. Is it true?” Her eyes sharply focused on him, ready to analyze any movement he made. Irving searched for the right words as he met her glare.

“Marguerite, I know that Jowan is a dear friend of yours. He has displayed certain – _tendencies_ \- that have made the Enchanters question his motivations. It's safest if he takes the Rite of Tranquility.” The thought of Tranquility making Jowan safe was absolutely crazy. Marguerite couldn't sit in the stifling office any longer, she started to feel a scream form in her throat and ran to the exit before it could escape. Tears blinded her but Marguerite didn't care. She needed to go.

Tearing down the hall she bumped into several people but continued her frantic pace. _Thank the Maker it's empty_ _._ Marguerite plopped down on the latticework bench in the garden and looked out to Lake Calenhad. More flowers had begun to bloom since the night she and Cullen had spent cuddled among the Crystal Grace and fireflies. Her eyes began to focus and the tears stopped for a moment. That stupid Lily girl was right, Jowan was going to be made Tranquil.

“Marguerite.” She wiped the tears away in a foolish attempt to hide how upset she really was. Cullen was not convinced and gave a little scowl when he saw her blotchy face. Making space for himself beside her, he took her hands. “What's wrong?” The question brought a new round of tears as her bottom lip quivered. Saying the words seemed to cause her physical pain.

“Jowan is going to become Tranquil.” Whatever self control Marguerite had was dissolved as she finished the awful sentence. Trying to hide from what she had said, her face crashed into the front of his armor. Instinctively Cullen wrapped his arms around the crying girl, softly placing his lips on the top of her head. Being a Templar he knew exactly what this meant for the young man. Jowan would be branded with Lyrium to cut his connection with the Fade. Horrible but his training said it was the only way to keep everyone around him safe. They stayed that way until Marguerite no longer heaved with sobs. Finally allowing herself to look up she offered a weary smile to reassure Cullen she was fine. It broke almost instantly as she started to cry once again.

“Cullen I don't know what to do. He wants to run away. I can't do that. I can't help him Cullen but, I can't let him become Tranquil.” There was no good answer so he didn't reply, just pulled her back into her arms and gently rocked back and forth. 

“Shh, let's get some dinner. I hear there's a decent cheese potato soup being served tonight.” Despite the desire to continue melting down Marguerite had to admit she was growing hungry. Silently nodding in agreement Cullen stood up and then offered to help her. Her footing was still unsteady and she knew her face looked a mess. She tried her best to freshen up as Cullen escorted her to the dining hall. A smile finally came when he slipped her his piece of bread. The soup did smell good and she was grateful for Cullen remembering to feed her.

“You're going to help me.” Jowan sat down beside her. The tone in his voice indicated it was a demand, not a request. “Or I'm going to tell Greagoir and Irving about your dumb Templar.”

 


	6. Blackmail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was one big chapter but now they're two shorter ones.

“You're going to help me. Or I'm going to tell Greagoir and Irving about your dumb Templar.” His opening sentence had temporarily stunned her with its factual delivery. Jowan looked more determined than she had ever seen him. If she wasn't his friend she would say that he looked mad. “You've talked to Irving and now you know that Lily was right.” She opened her mouth to protest but he continued. “I can see it on your face Marguerite.”

 

“You haven't seen anything Jowan.” Marguerite squared her shoulders and forced her aura to feel more intimidating.

 

“Oh my friend, that is where you are wrong. Remember when you went to the garden? I followed you that night.” The color drained from her face as he claimed victory over his companion. “You two were kissing.” Marguerite hated her old friend. He had tainted one of her fondest memories with his unwanted lurking. She knew deep down there was nothing she could do to counter his threat. Jowan was going to try _whatever_ to escape with Lily. Irving might be understanding but Greagoir was never a kind man. Cullen would certainly be punished if their relationship was revealed this early, Marguerite needed time to gain prestige and respect.

 

“What are you planning?” Was all she could manage to spit out, slowly bringing a spoon to her mouth.

 

“I'm destroying my phylactery and leaving this blasted circle.” Marguerite choked on her soup, drawing the eyes of several other mages in the dining hall. He said it so plainly, as if it was the most simple plan in the world. Without his phylactery the Templars would be unable to track him. The only problem was all phylacteries were sealed away in a secret room. Marguerite grabbed a glass of water and soon enough the other mages were back to their distractions.

 

“Great. How are you planning on getting to it? There aren't exactly signs leading us to the Repository.” Yet again her friend had the upper hand and informed Marguerite.

 

 

“Lily knows where they're stored. She is an Initiate after all.” That blasted girl, of course she knew where the super secret phylactery room was. Not even the extra piece of bread from Cullen could save her spoiled dinner. With a sigh her head turned to face him in resignation. “We're going to do it tonight. Meet us by the basement after the midnight shift change.” Jowan gave her a reassuring shoulder pat before he headed off to continue wreaking havoc in the tower. Giving up on enjoying her food, Marguerite walked to her favorite window. The wind whipped the dark teal water into a frenzy, matching her quickly souring mood.

 

“Is everything alright?” Cullen appeared in the dimly lit hallway behind her. How on earth was she going to explain her predicament to him? Yet again her formal education had failed and she was left to figure out navigating this situation alone. “Did that other mage say something rude? You left without eating.”

 

“He saw us, that night in the garden.” Tears threatened to form at the corner of her light gray eyes as she continued. “He's going to tell Greagoir and Irving about us if I don't help.” Tracing the ebb and flow of the waters she attempted to contain her disappointment. “Jowan thinks he's going to steal his phylactery and run off with some Chantry initiate.” This situation was impossible for her to navigate. She had to help Jowan, for numerous reasons, but wanted to keep Cullen safe. He didn't deserve punishment for loving her. Realizing what had to be done she took a deep breath and turned to face the Templar in the doorway. Tears started flowing anew as she walked towards him.

 

“You must stay away from me Cullen. I don't want you to get hurt because of my actions.” The anguish in his eyes drove the pain deeper in her core. Instinctively she grabbed his face, feeling the lyrium in his skin fighting against her magic. “This – us – it's dangerous. I could not live with myself if you got reprimanded because of me.” Marguerite crushed her lips against Cullen's to keep his appeals from coming out. Strong arms wrapped around her waist in a silent plea to reconsider. It was the only way he had left to communicate what was in his heart.

 

“I love you.” Nose nestled in the crook of his neck she took in his scent, leather and incense. Without another word they detached and went their separate ways. Marguerite's feet grew heavier with every step away from Cullen until she was barely moving toward the basement. Along the way she found a rarely used storage closet and ducked in. The tears came in full force now among the musty scrolls and empty vials. Her hand clamped down on her mouth to stifle the scream she so badly wanted to let out. The pain she felt was a new kind of excruciating. In her chest was a tightness that no magic could alleviate and her heart was imploding. The only thing keeping her away from the man she loved was the fact that she was born a mage. Marguerite cursed the Maker for giving her such a cruel fate. When her body had been drained of all tears, she once again attempted to clean herself up. Stepping out of the closet, she found it was almost midnight and continued sneaking to the basement.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Marguerite might come off as a tad dramatic but that's the point. She's very naive and imaginative. Poor girl has the emotional maturity of a teenager.


	7. Discovery

“Are you sure you don't want to break yours?” Jowan gestured to the large stone shelf full of phylacteries. All the crystal vessels were more or less shaped the same and about the size of her hand. What made them special was the glowing blood they contained. Her fingers ran down the different labels until they settled on her own. It had been years since she had her blood taken yet it was warm to her touch. Marguerite still didn't know what she was going to do after Jowan left but destroying her phylactery was not a good idea.

 

“I'm sure. Running away from the circle isn't my plan ya know.” Placing the bottle back in its place, she turned around and followed the oblivious couple out of the basement.

 

“Jowan!” Irving's voice roared as the trio emerged from the basement. Standing beside him was a displeased Knight-Commander and curious Duncan. Marguerite tried to appear small as Greagoir walked towards them, the sound of shifting heavy armor filled the silent room.

 

“It appears what you say is true Irving, an initiate conspiring with a blood mage.” Her eyes widened, this was the first she had heard of him using blood magic. Irving said that he had _tendencies_ but that's not what she would call blood magic. “And judging by your friendly demeanor, I know you weren't just a thrall of the mage Lily.” The couple hadn't realized they were still holding hands but tried to quickly put distance between themselves.

 

“Marguerite, what was your part in all of this?” Irving spotted her hiding behind the shocked Jowan and angry Lily. Nervously playing with the hem of her sleeve she moved forward and joined the group.

“Jowan forced me to help him Irving! I only led him to the Repository. Please believe that I didn't know he was a blood mage.” Her only thought was of securing her life at the moment. Any whiff of blood magic equaled doom for a mage in the circle and she needed to disassociate herself with Jowan quickly. “Please don't make me Tranquil.” She was prepared to throw herself at their feet but was brushed away by Greagoir.

 

“I will deal with you shortly mage.” Marguerite slunk back to her original spot behind the couple. “As Knight-Commander of Kinloch Hold, I sentence this blood-mage to death.” She secretly considered this to be a kindness in comparison to the other punishments he could have received. “Lily will be sent to Aeonar. Guards, collect them.” Jowan pushed Lily behind him, preparing for a fight.

 

“No! I won't let you touch her!” He growled. Drawing a small knife from his robes, Jowan drew the blade across his palm. Fresh blood swirled around him and with a sudden _whoosh_ the three of them were left alone. Jowan had used his augmented magic to stun everyone around them, at least that's what Marguerite hoped.

 

“What the fuck Jowan! Blood magic? Did you know about this Lily?” Lily's face was colorless and twisted in anguish.

 

“Why Jowan?” Her voice cracked as they turned to one another.

 

“I thought it would make me a better mage but, I'm going to give it up. I'm giving up all magic,

I just need to be with you. Lily.” Desperately he grabbed her hands and started to plead. She looked at him with disgust. Marguerite could not fault her for feeling nothing but repulsion. It was stupid of him to think that practicing blood magic would reap any results worth the risk.

 

“Stay away from me blood-mage.” Lily spat out as she pushed Jowan away from her. He turned to his oldest friend but Marguerite only gave him a hard glare.

 

“You destroyed your phylactery, now leave this _blasted circle_.” With those final words Marguerite turned her back on her oldest friend. His footsteps behind her faded quickly as he ran to the merchant's entrance and escaped. Irving was the first to stir from his comatose state.

 

“Where's Jowan?” Scratching his head he looked around for the rogue mage.

 

“He ran away.” Lily dimly responded. Marguerite couldn't tell if her tears were because Jowan left her or the betrayal that had just been revealed. The poor girl before her looked completely broken. How dare he keep such a thing from both of them?

 

“None of us expected this. Are you all right Greagoir?” Irving helped the Knight-Commander to his feet.

 

“I can't believe both of you let him escape! Guards, resume taking Lily into custody.” There was no protest from her as she was escorted out of the hall.

 

“Jowan broke his phylactery Ser. It will be harder to track him now.” Marguerite tried to offer what information she could in a bid to save her life.

 

“It will, but we will find him. He will be punished for his crimes.”

 

“Did you take anything from the Repository Marguerite?” Irving asked, pulling her to his side.

 

“No Ser, you can check for yourself if you don't believe me.” He pat the top of her hands reassuringly and smiled.

 

“Your antics have still made a mockery of this Circle. You helped a blood-mage escape after all.” Greagoir was still looking to hold her accountable and it made Marguerite terrified. Duncan, who had been silently watching, joined the conversation.

 

“Knight-Commander, if I may … I'm recruiting mages for the Grey Wardens. Irving has told me she is very capable, and I would be happy to take Marguerite with me when I depart.” Her brows wrinkled in confusion. In their previous talks she had told Duncan she didn't want to join the Wardens.

 

“No! I refuse to let this go unpunished.” Greagoir moved to grab her but she dodged him and retreated farther behind Irving. She knew if she stayed any longer he would have her executed or worse, made Tranquil.

 

“I'm going with Duncan.” All three men looked at her stern expression. Marguerite knew little about the Grey Wardens, but she did know nobody could challenge her conscription. She hoped her demeanor didn't betray how truly panic-struck she was.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Codex entry about Aeonar can be found [ here](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Aeonar%22)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus. This chapter was such a pain in my ass to write, thanks writers block -_-

 

It was a blessing Marguerite hadn't been able to fully move into the mage quarters after her Harrowing. Most of her belongings were still neatly wrapped up and ready for travel. The problem came when she realized there was no way she could take all of her things. All the meticulous packages were torn apart as she took inventory. The books alone would fill her rucksack, leaving no room for her trinkets. The hardwood partitions in the room helped her hide the destruction she was causing. Spread across her bed were various novels and serials. She had decided there was room for her to bring three works in addition to her notebook. First she grabbed _La Belle et La Bete_ , the favorite of her collection. Next was _Adventures of the Black Fox_ followed by Brother Genitivi's _In Pursuit of Knowledge._ The other abandoned books sent a pang of guilt through her. Do Grey Wardens like to read, or do they just train and prepare for Blights? She hoped there would be some down time for her to read. Next she grabbed her embroidery kit. One good thing about traveling was she could get new thread colors and maybe some needles as well. Marguerite read about silk ribbon embroidery in Orlais, and hoped she could afford to buy some and try her hand at it. Her fingers traced the daisy chain she had sewn on her cuffs and smiled. A small cough behind broke her day dream.

 

“You're leaving?” Cullen's eyes fell on her rucksack and frowned. Marguerite shook her head and resumed folding her winter cloak. For a minute they stood silently staring at each other, both scared of what was coming next.

 

“You're looking at the newest recruit for the Grey Wardens.” She smiled weakly at him and halfheartedly ran her hand down her body. She had hoped to leave before he had heard of her departure, but someone must have told him. He moved closer and again she was grateful for the partition hiding her quarters. Cullen took her hands into his gloved ones and leaned in for a kiss. There was no time for her to protest as their lips met, sending a jolt of electricity up her spine. Cullen pressed their bodies closer until her back was to the cold stone wall. It was a stark contrast to the heat building between the two of them as the kiss deepened. Her hands reached up to stroke his curls and gently pull his face into hers. She would miss this.

 

“Come back to me safely.” Cullen finally pulled away and looked into her stormy gray eyes.

 

“I will Cullen.” She promised earnestly, slowly starting to smile. His eyes lit up and he kissed her again, another thing to remember him by. Maker, she already wanted to return to Cullen and she hadn't even left the Circle Tower yet. He broke their embrace too soon and rummaged through his uniform, revealing a small journal bound in fine fabric.

 

“Something for you to keep track of your adventures. You can regale me with your heroic deeds when you come back.” He smirked. She took it from his outstretched hands and tried to form an adequate thank-you. Feeling it, she could tell now that the fabric was a thick brocade. He must have spent at least a months wages to purchase something like that. “I've never seen you speechless before, I must say it's unnerving.”

 

“Thank you Cullen, it's beautiful.” Tossing it aside she wrapped her arms around his strong neck and stole another peck. “I look forward to reporting in.” She teased, nuzzling into his chest. Marguerite wanted to stay there forever, just the two of them. Again he broke their embrace too soon for her liking, clearing his throat.

 

“I must get back to my patrol, Greagoir is extremely paranoid at the moment. Can't have him suspecting anything.” Cullen gave her one more sweet kiss before leaving. Watching his cloak swish around the corner, she allowed herself to yet again wonder. How long until they could be reunited? Duncan had not said anything about an upcoming Blight. At least she had that bit of luck in her favor, for now.

 

Limiting her book collection was a prudent choice, Marguerite was able to easily fit all of her trinkets and essentials with a bit of spare room. She pat her heavy rucksack with a loud thump of pride. All around her were discarded books and clothes, the final mess she had to deal with before leaving. After a few hours the books were neatly stacked for Senior Enchanter Leorah to take back for her. A few of the apprentice girls split her remaining clothing among themselves. The whole ordeal of packing and parceling out her possessions was exhausting. Marguerite collapsed in her bed, welcoming her last night in the tower and falling asleep easily.

 

* * *

 

The sun broke too soon for Marguerite and she cursed at the stone floor that still had the chill of night. Spring was starting to show in her surroundings but the nights still belonged to winter. She quickly pulled her robes on and hoped she would be warm soon. With a familiar motion the rucksack was thrown across her back as she set out toward the great hall. It felt odd to leave the tower, indeed up till now Marguerite thought it wasn't real. Seeing the curious crowds gathered around doorways proved she wasn't hallucinating. Duncan looked relieved to see her coming through the large doorway. Greagoir and Irving were beside him, discussing paperwork needed to put her in his charge.

 

“Good Morning Sers.” She clumsily bowed with the new weight on her back. Irving gave her one of his warm smiles and nodded in approval at her attempt. Duncan finished scribbling on the parchment and handed it back to the Knight-Commander. “Am I free to go then?” Greagoir's eyes grew wide at her question.

 

“You are now under the watch of Ser Duncan _mage_. This doesn't make you free.” His words hit directly on target and she began to scowl. “Get her out of her so that I may try to restore order to this Circle.” Duncan suddenly appeared at her side and began to usher them to the entrance. He squeezed her arm softly to reassure her, but she was still numb from those cruel words. Looking over her shoulder one last time she caught a glimpse of Cullen. Blonde curls and sad amber-brown eyes burned into her memory forever. _I'll come back to you._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter but things will finally get rolling AND Alistair is coming!


End file.
